


Until We Fall In Love

by evangelistofstars



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy
Genre: Alcoholism, Andrey Isnt Here, Angst, Blood, Blood and Injury, Canon Era, Character Death, D E A T H, Death, Depression, Drinking, Duelling, Failed Elopements, Gun Violence, Guns, Love Letters, Love/hate relationships, Murder, Near Death Experiences, Pining, Possible Character Death, Shooting Guns, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love, War, anatasha fluff & angst, sonyakhov angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-04 23:20:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14031048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evangelistofstars/pseuds/evangelistofstars
Summary: Fedya Dolokhov never wanted to love Sonya. And then, he took the bullet for her.





	Until We Fall In Love

Sonya was sitting in the drawing room, mending on her lap. Natasha hated mending and similar things of the like, but Sonya found mending relaxing. The calm ebb and flow of the needle through fabric, small, careful stitches across the piece of cloth. Some may call it boring, but in a world where everything was changing, mending was always constant. There would always be clothes that needed stitching, or patching, or minor alterations. New clothes would need to be made. So, as it was, in a changing world, Sonya needed something to ground her, and she focused on the calm ebb and flow of the needle. _In, and out. In, and out. In, and out,_ in a constant cycle. Never changing. Consistent.

Little did she know that her life would soon change _forever._

Natasha entered the room looking gleeful and jubilant. This was not unusual, though it startled Sonya, causing her mending to fall out of her lap, and her needle to fall to the floor. “Natasha? Are you alright?“ she asked, looking solemnly at her friend.

“Me? Oh I´m wonderful! You´ll never guess what this is!“ said Natasha, squealing and bouncing off the balls of her feet.

“A.....letter?“ Sonya asked, confused. She never did learn to understand that girl.

“Not just any letter, a _love letter!_ From... from _him!_ “ Natasha squealed, holding out the letter for Sonya to see.

Sonya didn´t bother asking who “him“ was, she just assumed it was from Andrey, as the love letters usually were. Though, it had been a while since the last time Andrey had written to Natasha, and none of his letters had been particularly romantic.... Oh well, maybe he felt bad about that, and wrote her a love letter as a way of trying to make up for it. Whatever his motive was, she didn´t question Andrey´s letter to Natasha. For it wasn´t that Andrey didn´t love her. Of course he did. He just had rather muted ways of showing it.

“From Andrey?“ asked Sonya, though in her perspective, she already knew the answer.

“No, don´t be silly, it´s from Anatole!“

“Anatole?“ Sonya sighed. She never did trust that Kuragin.

Natasha waved the letter in Sonya´s face, and Sonya picked it up, examining for further inspection. Upon looking at the letter, she did not recognize the signature, nor the writing style. But the handwriting seemed so familiar. She was sure she had seen it before, though she didn´t know exactly where. Her mind kept wandering back to something from her childhood, as if that would help her recall where she´d seen the handwriting.

Then it hit her.

The proposal.

Dolokhov.

 

* * *

 

 

Dolokhov had proposed to her once, long ago. She had not thought of him since then, except occasionally, when he arrived at the opera with Helene and what not. But she remembered the proposal clearly. His speech, his writing, even just the sound of his voice. Melodic, yet harsh somehow, beautiful, yet cruel. That description basically summed up Dolokhov. Even from Sonya´s perspective, she had to admit he was handsome. With his messy, dark hair, and his mysterious eyes that twinkled mischieviously but that nobody really knew what color they were, and even his cocky swagger and his seemingly constant smirk, he certainly had the perks of being insanely attractive. He was charming too, when you take in his personality. Conniving and confident and charming, in a debonair, endearing sort of way. Were Sonya a less sensible woman like Natasha, or a promiscuous one like Helene, she most definitely would have fallen for him, perhaps would have ended up marrying him. But unfortunately, Sonya was sensible, and she saw right through his act.

Sure, Dolokhov was attractive and charming, and even _she_ couldn´t help but admire him, but beneath all that exterior he was a cruel, vicious man, who cared only for himself. Everything he did was for his benefit. Of course, it didn´t help that she was in love with her cousin Nikolai at the time, and was saving herself for him. Had it not been for Nikolai and for Sonya´s intellect and intuition, she would most likely call herself Sofia Dolokhova today. That never happened, though, did it.

After she turned him down, he tricked Nikolai into gambling away fourty-three thousand rubles, almost all of the Rostov family fortune. Because of Dolokhov, she could not be with Nikolai; because of Dolokhov, her family was ruined, and for that, she would never forgive him.

 

* * *

 

 

She didn´t know how she remembered his handwriting, but she did, and after reading the letter several times, she had come to a miraculous conclusion:

 

She was going to go visit Dolokhov.

 


End file.
